


Parallels

by imnerdyandimproud



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, F/M, Let's hope this comes out well, Loki Angst, Loki Feels, Loki-centric, Past Drug Use, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 17,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnerdyandimproud/pseuds/imnerdyandimproud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki takes a Midgardian girl as a hostage, he finds himself in for a little more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> Ooohhho! Eine Amerikanerin!- Ooohhho! American! 
> 
> “Schätzchen, wo willst du denn hin?!” - "My sweetheart, where are you going?"
> 
> “Na Schatz. Hast du mich vermisst?"- "Hello darling. Miss me?"
> 
> Thank you to Whyistheskyblue for the correction and translation help! :)  
> EDIT: Anddd to Kira+Akakitsune for the total translation reboot! Google translate is an epic fail. :(

There was something oddly comforting about blending in.

Wearing the Midgardian suit and jacket, he found himself cloaked in an even greater sense of power. He watched the ignorant, foolish mortals mill around him in their gowns and formalities, sipping champagne and making small talk. How meaningless their lives were, how blind they were to the greatness walking in their midst.

Happily, he strolled along, twirling his scepter like a baton. He paused only briefly to look down at the mortals, blissfully unaware of the chaos he was about to unleash, all but submerged in their revelry.

Briskly he strolled down the marble steps, smashing his scepter through the face of a “guard” that dared to approach him. Now they took notice of him, screaming and scattering like the ants they were.

He grabbed an older, bald man by the collar, forced him on his back on top of a slab of golden art. Nonchalantly he pulled a device from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and began to drill out the man’s eye. The anguished cries of distress surrounded him like a comforting blanket.

He found himself smiling. Oh, this was going to be _fun_.

* * *

 

Outside, a young girl walked alone. With every step, she checked over her shoulder, her breath coming in short gasps. The chill of the wintry air only added to the shivers of trepidation running down her spine.

They were following her. She knew it.

“Schätzchen, wo willst du denn hin?!” They called after her, cackling with malicious laughter. She rubbed her sweaty palms on her threadbare jacket and broke into a run. Her knapsack was slapping against her back, a psuedo-comforting tattoo.

She knew this wouldn’t end well. Nothing about this scenario ended well. And, lo and behold, as she was wrapped up in her worrying her sneaker fell into a crack in the sidewalk and she fell onto her knees.

“Na Schatz. Hast du mich vermisst?" One of them asked her, pulling her up by her arm, roughly. She could feel his fingertips digging into her track marks and she winced. Another pulled the backpack from her shoulders and began rifling through its contents. 

“Not on your life,” she snarled at him.

“Ooohhho! Eine Amerikanerin!” He cried in triumph, swinging her around. She feared her arm would pop out of its socket. “American!”

“Put me down!” she demanded in a voice that made her appear braver than she felt, and, to her endless surprise, the man complied. It was only when she raised her head once more, after being unceremoniously dropped on the ground that she realized _why_.

* * *

 

He strolled out of the hall, scepter in hand, back in his armor as he blasted cars and other pathetic mortal trinkets out of his way. Like a house of cards, they fell (they would always fall), collapsing into flames in heaps of twisted metal in the streets.

The ants were trying to get away, pathetically scurrying away from him in an attempt to flee to freedom. With a wave of his palm, he multiplied himself by four, his copies laughing in the face of the crowd as they huddled together, back to back, seeking comfort in their numbers.

“Kneel before me,” he began, and upon seeing the stupid, brainless flock before him did not comply, he roared, “I said... KNEEL!”

One by one, they all fell to their knees.

“Is not this simpler? Is this not your natural state?” he continued on, feeling exhilaration flow through his veins like the electricity his brother wielded so effortlessly. “It's the unspoken truth of humanity that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power. For identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.”

Just then, he watched in disbelief as an elder stood, albeit slightly unsteadily, on his feet. “Not to men like you,” the old man said in an unwavering voice.

He felt his thin lips curl into a cruel smirk. “There are no men like me.”

The old man shook his head. “There are always men like you.” 

* * *

 

It was just bad luck that she had happen to fall right in the path of a mad man.

“Shit, shit, _shit_ ,” she swore under her breath, head buried between her knees. She was so close to this blithering psychopath, she could practically see her reflection in his boots. There was no way she could escape without being detected. She was screwed.

And she was about to watch a sweet old man meet his untimely death- a bonus, in her otherwise _perfect_ night.

“Look to your elder, people,” the man sneered, pointing a golden scepter with, what appeared to be, a swirling blue ball of electricity on the end, at the old man. “Let him be an example to you.”

There was a flash of light and she squeezed her eyes shut, when, suddenly, she heard, “You know, the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing.”

She opened her eyes, slowly. Well, that was unexpected.

A few feet away from her stood a man dressed in a blue and red spandex suit, a red, white, and blue shield with a simple star embossed on the front protecting the old man. It was all so…patriotic, that even in her fear, it made her slightly nauseous.

“The soldier. A man out of time,” the mad man grinned, raising the scepter once more.

“I’m not the one who’s out of time,” the patriot said, his voice deep and brave and true. He was like a walking propaganda.

Then, she felt herself being lifted in the air for the second time that evening.

* * *

 

He had to pick the one mortal that smelled like she had just crawled out of a sewer.

The girl was a wreck; greasy hair (painted in garish colors) lying lank in front of her face, ripped clothing, eyes smudged black with…coal? It turned his stomach to touch her, but her pathetic appearance only helped to serve his purpose.

“Uh uh uh,” he teased at the soldier, his scepter transforming into a dagger, which he pressed to the unkempt girl’s slender (apparently this mortal didn’t eat- he could feel her already too fragile bones bending like chalk dust under his grip) neck. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

This gave the soldier pause. “Wait a minute Loki…take it easy…”

He simply laughed, and with a snap of his fingers and a flash of light, disappeared.

It was only when he arrived at his destination did he realize he had, unknowingly, brought the mortal with him.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki is amused by his new hostage and his new hostage is less than amused by Loki.

She didn’t even know if she was in _Germany_ , anymore.

It looked like she was in a sort of abandoned warehouse, filled with computers and other electronics. There was broken glass littering the floor at her feet, throngs of people reading things off of monitors.

And, before her, stood the madman with the horned helmet, studying her with a frown.

Before she had time to contemplate just how _stupid_ her actions would be, she had grabbed a shard of glass from the floor and was charging him with it, shrieking (what she hoped) came off as an intimidating war cry.

* * *

 

Well, _that_ was unexpected.

He had half a mind to laugh as he sidestepped the Midgardian’s _pathetic_ attempt at attack. She went skidding and sliding past him, tripped up on the shards of glass, when he stopped her and summoned her back at his side. 

“Now _that,_ ” he scolded, “Was _not_ very nice at all.”

To his disbelief, the mortal cretin _spat_ in his face. At once, Agent Barton was by his side, clouded blue eyes narrowed at the insolent little brat, arrow pointed directly between her eyes. With a wave of his palm, Loki called him off, instead opting to slap the child across the face.

“Let’s set some ground rules, shall we?” he began, watching blood trickle out of her nose with satisfaction. “The only reason you are alive is out of the pure _goodness_ of my heart. I have slaughtered _hundreds_ of your kind, tonight alone, and will not cease until your entire worthless race is either bowing before me or lying in _pieces_ at my feet. In short, I am not someone you wish to anger. There are limits to my patience, easily reached. So, if you value your life, I would suggest that you stop this degrading show of ‘bravery’ and do whatever I require of you.”

The girl’s face was one of pure defiance; there was still a steady stream of blood pouring from her nose, over cracked lips and spittle on her chin, but her eyes were practically _aflame_ with hatred. “Kill me,” she all but _growled_ at him. “I don’t care.”

* * *

 

Where had _that_ statement come from??

Surely she didn’t want to die…she just wanted the psycho to _let her go_. Her blown-out veins were already in enough pain from being manhandled so much, and she was sure her nose was broken. Still, was death a better fate?

Apparently.

At least it gave the bastard pause.

He was _laughing_. At _her_. He found her _funny_?! “You Midgardians,” he chuckled, warm breath in her face. “Always trying to be so _noble_. Don’t worry child- death will not meet you…tonight, at least.” 

And what the _fuck_ was a ‘ _Midgardian’_?!

It was official; she was at the mercy of a complete nutter.

* * *

 

As he released her, he was still laughing.

Honestly, he _had_ planned to kill her; once he discovered she had, accidentally, transported with him he had meant to dispose of her as soon as the moment was opportune. But the more she _insisted_ on fighting him, the more amusing the situation became, and he was beginning to see the upsides of keeping her around.

For one, that idiot soldier had practically frozen when he had thrust her in front of him.  She was a fleshy, fragile shield, buying him time and protection, and, if nothing else, an interesting new toy to pass the time while his plan came to fruition. 

But she would need to learn respect.

“Until you learn some proper manners, child,” he said, and with his words, a cell appeared around her. It was not unlike the dungeons back home, created out of shimmering golden energy. “I’m afraid you’ll have to stay in there without any supper.”

The girl howled in anger, one of the truly sad excuses for footwear she wore flying at his face. Her cage prevented it from reaching him, however, and it sailed back at her. 

Loki smirked- she really _was_ a stubborn thing. “Selvig,” he called.

The scientist came rushing over. “Yes, my lord?” he asked, kneeling slightly as he spoke. 

He was watching her as she continued to beat her petite fists on the transparent walls, kick, and scream herself hoarse (although all he could hear through the cage was a pleasant hum) with amusement. “Keep an eye on our new guest, would you?”

* * *

 

Hours after the sadistic bastard had left her trapped in some kind of glass prison, she felt it beginning.

“No, no, _no!!_ ” she whimpered, feeling her skin begin to crawl as her stomach twisted upon itself painfully. It had been _hours_ since her last fix, and if the damn morons hadn’t stolen her backpack then she would still have some left…

She the insole of her left sneaker, remembering she had stashed a syringe in there after the last time she had been mugged. With a frustrated cry, she threw its pieces on the floor.

It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. What good was a syringe without anything to fill it with?

She wiped her mouth on her sleeve; she was _salivating_ like a damn dog. There wasn’t anything she could do about it, however, as she curled into herself and waited for hell to start.

The only thought that gave her comfort was that her captor couldn’t do shit to her if she was already dead by the time he came back.

 


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki's captive begins to undergo heroin withdrawals and Loki remembers simpler times with his brother.

Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold. There was no relief from it.

Had more hours passed? She couldn’t tell? Perhaps even a day? Sleep didn’t come. It was a constant struggle of on and off discomfort, masked by a constant haze of pain.

Sheneededitshewantedit _sheneededit._

The last time it had been this bad was the last time her parents had forced her into rehab. Their words had spoken of support, hope; their smiles were brittle and forced and said, “ _This is your last chance”_.

She blew it. Of course she blew it.

Not even a week in rehab and she had bitten a nurse at the worst of it, so they had to restrain her, strapping her to the bed until they could move her back to the hospital when a bed was ready. Her wrists and ankles had been so thin she was able to slip out of the cuffs and sneak out the window.

She didn’t know if her parents found out. She hadn’t spoken to her parents since.

That afternoon, she was back on the street, looking to score.

Her stomach spasmed with pain and she found herself vomiting up yellow bile and blood. She groaned at the smell, too weak to move, humiliated and dirty and stinking. 

“Hey,” she called out weakly, hoping _anyone_ would hear her. “Can I have some water? Please?” Her mouth felt like sandpaper and tasted sour.

The man in the white lab coat with the greying hair heard her, approaching her cage. _Dr. Erik Selvig_ , the black embroidery on his coat red. “Dr. Selvig,” she croaked out. “Please. Help me.” 

Selvig’s eyes were clouded and blue making her wonder if he was blind and could really see her at all. “I’m sick,” she continued. “I keep puking. I haven’t eaten in 24 hours, at least. I know I’m dehydrated. Please, I’ll _die_ if this keeps up.”

Selvig remained impassive, standing just beyond her reach of the glass, when he finally gave the tiniest nod of his head. “I’ll tell the boss.”

* * *

 

“…and in Stuttgart, Germany, a near terroristic encounter was aborted by an unknown source. Eyewitnesses say a tall, Caucasian man wearing body armor and a horned helmet could be seen leaving the scene with an unidentified hostage. The suspect is known to be armed and dangerous and any contact is prohibited. Whereabouts unknown-“

Loki yawned and pressed a button, causing the movie box to flitter off the irritating mortals with their somber faces and odd manner of halted speech. He was almost affronted they didn’t mention him in greater detail, but he knew that they would _all_ know him better soon enough.

He smiled, darkly, to himself. Oh yes. They would _all_ know him soon: as their _king_.

“My lord,” Selvig captured his attention, quietly, from a few yards away. 

He felt his eyes rolling of their own accord. “What? What’s wrong? Is it the tesseract?”

“No, my lord,” the scientist answered with a shake of his head. “It is your captive. She is unwell.”

“Mortals are _always_ unwell. Your kind scrapes their knee and cries like a babe for _days_ ,” Loki snorted, unimpressed. “She’ll live.”

“That’s just it, my lord,” Selvig disagreed. “I don’t think she will.”

Well that just wouldn’t do. If anything was going to kill the annoying little wretch, by the Norns it was going to be _him_. “Show me.”

* * *

 

She was drifting on the edge of consciousness.

Her fever had only served to increase, and (to both her utter horror and dismay), she had both shit and pissed all over herself.  If she ‘d had the strength, she would’ve sobbed for mercy.

“Oh Hel!” she heard a man exclaim through the thudding in her brain. “Are you sure she hasn’t already expired, Selvig? It certainly _smells_ like death in here.”

Oh, well wasn’t that _fantastic_.

“No,” she managed to spit out. “G-go….go away. N-n-not you.”

The world was a fading, rosy haze around her, but she could still make out her captor’s slight form as he crouched in front of her transparent cage. His raven hair had a slight shimmer to it, and as he smiled at her, his teeth appeared to be bared as if to threaten.

“No such luck, darling,” he said.

 

* * *

 

He had to admire her obstinacy, if nothing else.

Even on the brink of death, the mortal still had the gall to talk back. It was irritating, yes, but still entertaining as always.

The smell, however, was something he could’ve lived another hundred centuries _without_.

“A bath, Selvig,” he called brusquely, levitating the girl out of her prison (and far out of his reach). “And some food, I would imagine.” She moaned quietly, twisting in the air, before lying still in slumber. 

As the water was drawn, Loki used the scepter to slash the already tattered clothes off of the girl. It struck him, at first, how _pale_ her skin was- he could see the steady pounding of blood underneath her flesh, blue as his Jotun form. 

His brushed his fingertips against her collarbone and hissed in pain- she was so hot it nearly _burned_ him. Still, if nothing else, the pain came as a twisted sense of comfort to him so he pressed a little harder. The bones shifted under his touch.

Instantly, an unbidden memory sprang forth to his mind. When he and Thor were children, Odin had let them keep a baby bird as a pet. Loki had found it on the castle grounds, a pathetic little thing with a broken wing. Thor, of course, had wanted to crush it, like the brainless oaf he was, but Loki had insisted that they keep it. After some urging on Frigga’s part, Odin had eventually relented, and thus the princes had been granted their first pet.

It was the first possession Loki ever remembered really _loving_. Of course, Thor had to go and ruin it.

His damn brother had been handling the bird while he was attending one of his lessons, and when Loki had returned he had found the poor creature with its neck snapped. “I’m sorry! It was an accident!” Thor kept blabbering over and over, and all Loki had done was burst into tears and refused to speak to him for a week straight. They eventually made up, as brothers do, but he was never quite able to shake the memory of the blank, glassy look in the bird’s eyes.

It was the first time he had ever seen death up close.

Instantly, he withdrew his hands from the girl’s neck and guiltily looked around, as though Thor were looking in the shadows ready to accuse him…of what, exactly, Loki wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t as cold hearted as Odin when it came to war. He couldn’t even keep a Midgardian captive alive for a _full day_ without issues. How would he fare in combat? How would he be able to rule if he couldn’t maintain control of _one useless mortal_??

“Agent Barton, come bathe the hostage,” He demanded in a strained voice.

He still found himself checking the girl’s eyes before leaving. They were green, like the lush grass of Frigga’s gardens.

It was progress, he supposed.

 

 


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki and his captive get a little up-close and personal.

Cold. 

Someone had dumped a bucketful of icy water over her head and she shivered, hissing like a cat. “What the _hell_ was that for?!”

“I’m bathing you,” a robotic voice said. To her horror, she looked up to find the guy with the crossbow approaching her with a washcloth.

Which would mean she was… 

“ _Get OUT_!!” she squealed, pushing male Katniss, _hard_ , in the chest. “I’m fucking naked you creep! Get the fuck _out_!!” 

“Sir!” the man called. “She’s acting up!” 

“Damn right I am!!” she continued to scream, alternating between reaming blows upon the man and covering her (albeit tiny) breasts. It rather appeared that she was trying to fold in upon herself like a clam to prevent anything _else_ from showing. “I’m acting up I’m acting up I’m acting-!” 

“I heard you the first time,” drawled a smooth voice in her ear. “Remember, the limits of my patience are _easily_ reachable.” 

“But I’m _naked_ ,” she grit out. “You could’ve at least forced a woman to do this.”

Her captor paused, walking in front of her. He was still wearing that stupid green cape, she noted. She wondered if he ever changed to wear anything normal. 

“I suppose I _could’ve_ ,” he agreed, a slow, sick smile spreading over his features. “But where would the fun in _that_ be?” 

* * *

 

The more he stared at her, the more she reminded Loki of the baby bird. 

As she moved around, uncomfortably fidgeting to protect her “modesty”, he was able to see the subtle shifting of her bones and joints under her too-pale skin. She looked so… _mortal_ , that it was almost shocking to him. He couldn’t help comparing her to Sif, in that moment, and what a stark contrast it was. Sif’s body was strong, muscular, fit for a warrior- this Midgardian looked as though she wouldn’t be able to defend herself against _dust_. 

Still, she had managed to do a pretty decent job of landing Agent Barton on his arse in the tepid water (where he continue to sit wordlessly awaiting instructions).

“You raped me, didn’t you?” she grumbled at him, then.

“What?” Loki asked calmly, mildly shocked. “I did _not_ forcefully bed you, if that’s what you mean. I am not of that kind.” 

“No, but instead you’ll just hold a defenseless person against their will?” her hands fell to her hips- it was as though she had forgotten she was nude- and her breasts pointed at him directly. He couldn’t help but let his eyes slide down her form, and as he did so, she covered herself once more with a blush. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” he inquired innocently.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Loki noticed she was beginning to sway on her feet.

“You need to eat.”

“No.”

“It wasn’t an option,” he growled out. Her insolence was grating on his nerves. “You _will_ eat.”

“And if I don’t?” she smirked. Audacious little _wretch_. “You gonna make me?”

It was Loki’s turn to smirk. “Well…if you _insist_ …”

* * *

 

In a flash, she found herself sitting on the captor’s lap. _Naked._

The only thing that stopped her from struggling was the steady pressure of his hand squeezing the nape of her neck.

“Agent Barton,” he said. “Leave us.”

Male Katniss got up from the water (with minimal splashing) and left with a tiny nod. A second after he was gone, she found herself already missing his presence.

A spoon was pressed to her lips. “ _Eat_ ,” he all but commanded her. “Or I will be forced to get creative with my methods.”

“It’s poisoned.” She asked-stated.

He laughed. The vibrations pushed her deeper into his chest. It was an odd sensation; there was the natural heat of his body, yes, but the dark leather and cool metal of his armor were uncomfortable on her skin. “Try to understand this, Midgardian- if I _wanted_ you dead, you would already _be_ dead. Poison would not be my chosen method, as well. It is far too cowardly.”

“Well that’s good to-“ she went to retort when the spoon was shoved inside her mouth. To her relief, it was only a sort of chicken broth, and it was hot enough that it warmed her throat on the way down.

She sighed contentedly and found herself fucking _snuggling_ into his grasp.

* * *

 

It had been a long time since Loki had been touched.

Well, that wasn’t true- he had been manhandled, slapped, punched, thrown (most of these things done by Thor) but affection? The last person he remembered embracing was his mother. It felt like ages ago. 

And here was this _mortal_ , purring like a damn cat and rubbing herself against his chest. It was almost as if… “Do you _wish_ me to take you?”

“ _What?!_ ” she squealed, distancing herself as much as possible from his body while he held her in place. “Jesus, _no_. No no no. No.”

He _almost_ felt affronted by her disgust. It wasn’t as though he had been bombarded with maidens on Asgard- that honor usually went to Thor. He was just shy little Loki, living in the glory of his brother’s shadow. No female wanted second best, after all.

But she was just a _mortal_. She was so immaterial that her opinion was irrelevant. He would’ve been disgusted if she would’ve admitted lusting after him.

As though sensing something, the girl began quietly, “Hey…that came out harsher than I meant it to…I mean, you’re not _so_ bad…for a psychopath and all…”

“It’s not as though I’d ever bed _your kind_ anyway,” Loki snarled.

Hurt flashed through her eyes. “Fuck you,” she mumbled. He raised the spoon to her lips once more, refusing to meet her wounded gaze. The pout on her face reminded him of Thor post-coronation disaster; it was unsettling.

Once he was satisfied she had eaten sufficiently, he let her go.

* * *

 

She jumped off his lap as though he had burnt her.

It had been _so long_ since someone had touched her bare skin. Well, that wasn’t entirely true…at one of her…lower points she had resorted to selling herself for drugs. It was a part of her past she wasn’t proud of, but she had managed to scrape by without contracting any STD’s or unwanted pregnancies. Small victories.

But still…the way this asshole touched her…it was as though he was afraid she’d break. She had never felt so fragile, before. It both pissed her off and touched her in a strange sense, and that _scared her to no end_.

She didn’t even know the man’s name, not to mention he was incredibly insane and unstable and holding her hostage.

Agent Barton (male Katniss or whomever he was) led her back to her cage. She was given a simple black t-shirt that smelled like mustard. Her captive had long disappeared without another look in her direction. 

She lied on her back, groaning, trying to sleep. If only she had some smack to take the confusion and uneasiness away.

 

 

 

 


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki and his captive find some common ground.

When she woke up, she was on a bed. 

“The hell…?” she wondered aloud, immediately testing the boundaries of her prison. With a sigh, she realized they were still in place. She had just been given…were those _books_??

He had left a stack of books in her cell. She leafed through the titles: _The Great Gatsby, Catcher in the Rye, Phantom of the Opera_ … it was like her high school English class all over again. Was this guy a professor or something?? 

The bed, at least, she was grateful for. Sleeping on the floor had fucked up her back.

There was also a plate with 3 apples on it: one red, one golden, one green. And a note- _Eat_.

Her stomach grumbled at the sight. At least the withdrawals had subsided- she had the cravings, but at least she wasn’t dying from dehydration anymore.

Which made her wonder… 

“Why am I not dead?” she asked to no one in particular.

“Boss said we had to save you. I hooked you up to an IV. We bathed you a few times, kept you clean- you kept voiding your bowels.” Dr. Selvig answered her in his detached voice.

“Oh.” She flushed red with shame. “I’m sorry you guys had to see that. It’s been a while since I’ve been this clean.”

“Agent Barton cleaned you sufficiently then?” Selvig cocked his head at her.

She bit back a laugh. “Not exactly.”

Selvig offered her something close to a smile and returned to his work.

* * *

 

It had been _days_. And not a soul had come looking for her.

On the other side of that coin, no one had come looking for _him_ either, and that was crucial. It gave Selvig time to finish the bifrost. It kept that bumbling, costumed, American idiot out of his hair. 

And it left him with the aggravating human girl.

He hadn’t spoken to her in days, and neither had she to him. They avoided each other with careful trepidation. 

It was enough.

He had given her books, after all. Comfort, something by which to pass the time. Food. She was being imprisoned far better than the common prisoners of Asgard. She should’ve been grateful, to Loki, for the excellent care in which he was keeping her.

She wasn’t.

The only person she spoke to was Erik Selvig. Usually, it was about her health, but at times, Loki would catch Selvig teaching her about the equipment he was using. She seemed eager to have something to do, something to latch onto, he supposed.

She hadn’t touched the apples he had left for her. He couldn’t fathom why she was so enamored with the idea of harming herself.

“If you’re trying to end your life by refusing sustenance, I assure you it won’t work,” he snapped at her one day when his frustration finally broke the skin. 

She just shrugged at him, and went back to reading one of the books.

“I have methods of keeping you alive.”

“You have methods of keeping me alive, you have methods of killing me, blah blah blah.” She met him with a dead stare, turning the pages with a flourish. “After a while, it gets old.”

Odin would’ve had her whipped. Odin would’ve had her muzzled. Odin would’ve had her chained in the woods and unleashed ravenous beasts to feast upon her bones.

Loki was not Odin, no matter how hard he tried to be, and could do none of these things. He could only feel his anger surface towards her once again and restrain himself from muttering a particularly nasty curse against her.

“You forget your place, _child_. You are the ant, a trivial being beneath my boot. I could crush you faster than you can blink and you have the _audacity_ to sass me?”

She shrugged again. “I don’t even know your name, buddy. You’re not that impressive, honestly.” 

“I am Loki, of Asgard.” He felt his spine straighten at the words, awaiting the girl to cower in fear.  “And I am burdened with glorious purpose.”

Her stare remained glassy. “O-kay. Sure. Tell me, is Asgard close to Romania or something?”

“Asgard is not of this realm.” Loki sniffed, insulted. “I do not know of this _Romania_ you speak of.”

“Oohh I get it now! You’re an _alien_. Of course!” she cackled, snapping the book shut. “Damn, what loony bin did _you_ escape out of?”

“I am _Asgardian_. Do you not listen?” Loki snapped. “I am a _god_ , and you will come to kneel before me.”

“Sure,” she grinned. “Just keep telling yourself that, _Loki_.”

* * *

 

In a flash, he had pulled the scepter out of his damn cape and went to taze her- or at least that’s what it _seemed_ like. “The fuck?!” she yelped, scrambling backwards in her cell. “What is your _problem_?!” 

“You try my patience, mortal. You _will_ learn respect.” He had this smug look on his face, as though he was proud of seeing her shaken.

“I don’t respect _anyone_ who keeps me locked up!” she screamed. “What do you even _want_ with me?! I don’t have anyone who gives a shit about me. You’re not going to get any money. I’m not famous… nobody cares about me, all right?? Just let me go home.”

The guy… _Loki_ , apparently, cocked his head at her. “You have no parents? No companions?” 

She snorted. “My parents are _done_ with me. Having a drug addict for a daughter was too much effort for them, apparently. I was never big on friends. I don’t play well with others, apparently.” 

Something in his face softened at that and he let the scepter fall to his side. “It must be a lonely existence for you, then.”

It was. “It’s fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Maybe…” he began slowly. “Maybe it would be acceptable to let you roam for an hour or two. _Only_ if you prove yourself to be trustworthy, that is. And if you stay out of my way.”

She was slightly crestfallen he wasn’t talking about releasing her, but decided to take the olive branch he was extending to her. “Alright. Thank you, Loki.”

He made a face that was somewhere between a smile and a grimace, spun on his heel, and left.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki discovers his captive has a talent for mischief and his captive's identity remains a mystery to both Loki and herself.

Loki wasn’t one for admitting his mistakes (not that he made them frequently) but allowing the mortal girl out of her cell for an hour or two (at the very most) was a _grave_ error in judgment on his part. 

The girl had a talent for mischief parallel to, only, his own. She would unscrew bolts on the equipment constructing the bifrost, throw things at the back of his head when he was unaware, hide his scepter in various locations around the lab.

It was exhausting. 

She denied doing all of these things, of course. When he would question her, hands around her slender neck, green eyes wide and innocent, she would simply say, “I don’t know! Ask Barton! It wasn’t _me_."

And damn, if he didn’t want to just _squeeze the life out of her_ in the face of her _insolence_ , but there was something about her blonde hair… It was short, hanging in choppy strands ending around her chin, and the color was that of honey (diluted, of course, by the ridiculous blue color she _insisted_ on dyeing it with) and it reminded him inexplicably of _Thor_.

As much as he envied his brother, he could never _truly_ hurt him. He supposed that much was true of the mortal, as long as she bared resemblance to him. That was the reason he was supplying himself with, at least, of why he allowed her to best him again and again. 

So, Loki, seeing no other options, decided to show the little wench what mischief _truly_ was.

* * *

 

She was sitting in her cell, teeth raised to the green apple, when the damn thing shifted into a fucking _snake_ in her grasp.

Screaming, she let the serpent fall through her fingers. “Shit!! What the _hell_?!”

She heard low laughter, like the rumbling of thunder, and Loki appeared before her with a shimmer of green light. “What? I thought you enjoyed surprises, as you have been blessing me with them since I have allowed you _some_ freedom.” 

“I told you that wasn’t me,” she pouted stubbornly. Not that she’d willingly admit it, but the pranks were the only thing breaking the constant monotony of every day. There are only _so_ many times one can read _The Great Gatsby_.  “Y’know, Barton always looked a little shifty to-“

“Barton is possessed,” Loki smirked. “As is Selvig and everyone else here except for…well, you.”

“Why not possess _me_ then?” she asked, playing along, It’s not as though she actually _believed_ anything he told her, anyway. She wasn’t exactly convinced her…captivity was reality anyway. Once, on a particularly eventful bender, she had imagined she had secured the Presidency of the United States and had tried to hop the fence to the White House. When she woke up in a D.C. prison, days later, she tried calling for the Secret Service.

“I ask myself that quite often,” Loki admitted begrudgingly. “You have quite a nasty habit of questioning your good fortune, girl.”

“I’m not even sure this is all _real_ ,” she laughed. She purposely sidestepped the fact that kidnapping wasn’t something she’d call _good fortune_.

“Oh? Am I not flesh and blood?” he grinned wolfishly, approaching closer to the not-glass of her cell. “Was that snake in your hand not _real_ enough?”

“It’s all this…magic stuff, I guess. C’mon. Stuff like that doesn’t happen in _real_ life.” She crossed her arms over her chest, staring him down. “Magic isn’t _real_. There’s always a trap door or mirrors or shit. Hypnotism is for stupid people. Nobody gets _possessed_ outside of exorcist flicks. Be real.” 

Loki raised an eyebrow at the mortal. She seemed so sure of herself, so arrogant that nothing could exist outside of her Midgardian understanding that it almost made him burst into laughter once more. “Tell me then, girl, where are your mirrors now?”

* * *

 

He watched her eyes expand as duplicates of his form surrounded her cage, laughing at her disbelieving expression. “No…it’s not possible,” she breathed, studying him and the clones, and then back once more. “You’re tricking me!”

At this Loki _did_ laugh. “I am the god of _mischief_ , child. Of _course_ I am tricking you!”

“Asshole,” she pouted, staring around at the multiple versions of himself with unease. “Make them go away. One of you is enough for me.”

“As you wish,” Loki said with a dark grin as the illusions vanished in a shimmer of light. “You know, I am at a sort of…disadvantage with you, mortal.” 

“You’ve seen me _naked_. I’m not sure what else you’re looking for.” She snapped at him, frowning.

“Your name, for one.” It had always struck Loki odd that for someone so argumentative she had never once corrected him on her unused name.

She paled (more, if that were possible) and bit her bottom lip. “It’s whatever you want it to be,” she told him huskily, the tone of her voice reminding him of the whores of Asgard.

“Do you mean to _seduce_ me?” he asked her, half smug, half caught off-guard.

“Well what does it matter what my name is?!” she yelled, flushing pink. “It’s not like _you_ care. You haven’t cared about it so far.” 

“Must you make everything so _difficult_?” Loki sighed, fingertips massaging his temples. “I only wish to know your name.”

“Idon’tknowit.” 

“Sorry?” he asked, thinking he had misheard her. “You are nameless?” 

“No,” she grumbled. “I just…forgot it.”

 


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki's captive is honest (to herself) and Loki is faced with an uncomfortable situation.
> 
> (Sorry about the late update- finals are a bitch)

 

The way that _asshole_ was staring at her made her want to scream. There was so much judgment in his gaze that it made her want to curl up in a ball and cry.

“Don’t lie to a liar, child,” he sneered at her.

“I’m _not_ lying,” she said, hoarsely, feeling her throat clog with tears. “I’m serious, I forgot it. I got so used to giving people fake names and bogus stories I guess I just…lost who I really was along the way.” 

All of her past memories before she started using were candy-coated in her mind; rosy and tinted with cellophane, hazy fever dreams of a life that she _might’ve_ once lived. But as her using became more frequent and she was forced onto the street, the only thing that mattered was when and where she’d get her next fix. She became Carmen, Lola, Ashley- she was a stripper, a thief, a whore. She stole bus tickets out of sleeping patron’s hands, snuck onto trains and hitchhiked on highways. 

The plane fare to Germany? The last guy she had fucked for smack had left his wallet out on the nightstand. Stupid. She ended up making it away with $500 in cash and the ticket to Stuttgart. Dumbass was so drunk he never even heard her leave. She vaguely remembered saying her name was Simone that night; it made her feel like a high-class, Julia Roberts-esque whore. Not the common tramp she was.

“Last one I used was Simone. Take your pick,” she waved him off with her hand, trying to act like this wasn’t the most mortifying conversation she had ever had. She looked like a junkie _idiot_. He was probably going to think she was the dumbest slut he had ever met.

But wait…what did it matter what this _lunatic_ thought of her anyway??

* * *

 

“You really have forgotten?” Loki asked her in disbelief. “My….my apologies, child. I did not realize.”

“You’re apologizing…to _me_?” she snorted. “That’s a first.”

“I have manners,” he said, an edge to his voice. The girl really _did_ try his patience. “I’m not uncivilized, unlike yourself.”

The vulnerability, which had previously been written across her face like surrender, was gone in a second, replaced with something harder and colder. “Screw. You.” She ground out at him. “I’m just some stupid whore, right? Not good for anything? Right? That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?! Well then, go ahead, get it over with!” 

And then she was naked. Again.

Loki pinched his nose and averted his gaze respectfully (this time, at least). “If you had such an aversion to being naked previous, when it was necessary for _your_ benefit, why in Hel would you bare yourself before me once more?”

She just continued to stand there, hands on her bare hipbones, glaring him down. “Think of it as my… _gratitude_ for the great care you’ve kept me in. I’ll let you do whatever you want…just don’t use my ass. I’ll even struggle and pretend to fight you, if that’s what you get off on.”   
  
Wait…was this mortal…propositioning _him_? “Child. Dress yourself, _at once_. I am not going to take you.”

She just stood there for a moment and he could feel her gaze on him, seemingly _daring_ him to make his next move. “Why?” she asked at last. “Am I not good enough, or something?” Still, at least she was pulling up her clothes.

There was such raw emotion in her voice that Loki almost cringed in disgust. One moment, this mortal was baring her underbelly to him (quite literally, in fact) and then the next she was ready to strike. “I would not bed anyone who presents themselves so pathetically. Have some dignity for yourself. I will not have you acting like a common trollop in my presence.”

The nameless girl snorted at him when, suddenly, a crash of thunder rolled through the underground laboratory. He froze, his body going rigid with alertness.

Well, damn.

It was about time.

* * *

 

She watched Loki’s body language change at the sound of thunder with a smirk on her face. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Afraid of a little thunder?”

“No,” he replied simply. “But I’m not overly fond of what follows.”

Before she could ask him what he meant, there was a flash of lightning, a crash, and then both she and Loki were hurdling through the air.


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thor makes an appearance.

It honestly surprised Loki it took his idiot of a brother as long as it did to find him.

Thor had released him on some cliff and he was rolling through the dirt with a wheeze as rocks dug into his sides and dented his armor. He watched, through his new, slanted view of reality, as his nameless hostage went rolling off in the other direction. 

“Where is the Tesseract?” Thor’s booming voice was demanding suddenly as he was struggling to get to his feet. It was so… _Thor_. All business. No pleasantries.

So terribly _rude_.

He laughed. “I missed you too.”

Thor growled at him, grabbing him by the collar and lifting him off of the ground slightly. Through his peripherals, Loki saw the girl beginning to stir. “Do I look to be in a gaming mood?” 

“Oh you should thank me,” Loki smirked at him, trying to pry Thor’s meaty grasp from his throat. “With the Bifrost gone, how much dark energy did the Allfather have to muster to conjure you here, your precious Earth?”

Something in Thor’s face softened at that, their last meeting on the Bifrost before he had fallen seemingly lost forever. “I thought you dead,” he murmured to Loki.

Of _course_ he did. And to that effect, he and the Allfather had probably had a feast in celebration. “Did you mourn?” Loki settled on instead, voice like knives.

“We all did. Our father-“ 

“YOUR father!” Loki roared, finally losing the control he had so _desperately_ been trying to cling to. Seeing Thor was enough to unhinge him already, yes, but the mention of the Allfather… “He DID tell you my true parentage, did he not?”

Thor, poor, idiotic, Thor just looked at him with such unwarranted pity it made him want to vomit. “We were raised together, we played together, we fought together. Do you remember none of that?” he asked Loki, seemingly going to reach out for him.

He. His “brother”. 

The truth was, Loki remembered it all too well. The memory of the damn bird raised, unbidden, to his mind once more and when he willed it away it was replaced with a vision of his mother mourning his loss.

Poor Frigga. He never meant for her to get tangled up in all of this.

“I remember a shadow, living in the shade of your greatness,” Loki continued, trying to cast out the nostalgic memories of his brother, his mother, his _home_. “I remember you tossing me into an abyss, I who was and should be king!”

He masked his hurt with rage because it was easier; because it was the part he had _always_ been slotted to play.

Thor went to respond when there was the sound of groaning; that _damn girl_. “And who is this?!” His brother roared, grabbing her by the wrist. 

For the first time since he had captured her, Loki saw true fear on the girl’s face, and that just made him hate Thor all the much more.

* * *

 

Well, that was just great. Things were just getting weirder and weirder.

Now, some muscly blonde man was holding her by the wrist and waving her around as though she were a ragdoll. Unlike Loki, however, this nutter seemed like he could do some real damage if he wanted to…

And like she had heard him say before, he wasn’t in a “gaming mood”.

“I’m the hostage,” she squeaked out. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s going on. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, that sort of stuff.”

“Brother…is this _true_?” She landed with a thump on the ground (she really wished these caped _idiots_ would stop fucking dropping her every chance they got) as muscle man rounded on Loki. “You have taken a Midgardian as your…prisoner??” 

Loki stared with her at distaste as she lay on the ground. “And what of it? She is not dead. I have not mistreated her.” 

Muscle Man snorted. “I find that hard to believe, given your previous actions on this realm.” 

Did they not realize she was sitting _right there_? “Umm…hello? I’m pretty sure I’m capable of speaking for myself. And your ‘brother’ is telling the truth. He hasn’t mistreated me…other than keeping me hostage and all that.”  

Muscle Man’s rage was back. “So you take the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights? No, the Earth is under MY protection, Loki!”

His protection? “Well where the hell have you been?” she wondered aloud in a huff. 

Loki must’ve heard her, however, because he laughed. “And you’re doing a _marvelous_ job with that. The humans slaughter each other in droves,” his gaze flittered over to her as he said this and she found herself growing red for some reason. “While you ideally threat. I mean to rule them. And why should I not?”

“You think yourself above them?” Muscle Man motioned to her with a wave of his gigantic hand.

Loki gave a half-hearted shrug. “Well, yes.”

She snorted. She could’ve told him that.

“Then you miss the truth of ruling, brother. A throne would suit you ill.” Muscle Man said sadly. “I am sorry, my lady, for any harm that has besought you at my brother’s hand.”  He offered his hand to her, to help her up.

She accepted with a smirk in her captor’s direction. “I think I like your brother better.”

* * *

 

Well wasn’t that just _perfect_. Once again, Thor had won over the affection’s of another maiden. How _typical_.

At once, Loki was transported to the time when he had admired Sif. It was an ill-fated affair from the start; Sif was always more suited for his brother. Still, perhaps it was the lure of possessing something that was so perfect for Thor that appealed to him…of course, when Sif found out about his feelings for her, she had all but laughed in his face, which gave Loki no other choice to cut all her hair off and dye it black.

He had a feeling if he did that to this mortal, she wouldn’t exactly mind. Which, of course, took all the fun out of it.

“I've seen worlds you've never known about!” He spat at Thor. “I have grown, _Odin's Son_ , in my exile! I have seen the true power of the Tesseract, and when I wield it...”

“Who showed you this power? Who controls the would-be-king?” Thor asked him, his touch still lingering on _his mortal’s_ hand.

“I AM a king!” 

“Not here! You give up the Tesseract! You give up this pointless dream!... You come home.” Thor approached him grabbing the sides of his face. He smelled of summer and Asgard, and for a second, his offer was so tempting that Loki actually thought of accepting.

It was only until he caught a glimpse of the girl’s face over Thor’s shoulder that he reconsidered.

She looked so lost, so helpless with the thought of…losing him? Would she actually… _miss him_ , if he were to return??

He smiled. “I don’t have it.” 

Thor raised Mjölnir in his face threateningly, and _his_ mortal gasped.

“Don’t hurt him!” she cried.

Thor gazed, puzzled, at her outburst. Loki himself was just as shocked. “My lady, you do not know of what you speak. Loki is dangerous, I only seek to protect you.” 

“Yeah, well, I think I’ve done pretty good without your protection so far,” she told him indignantly, and Loki was positively _brimming_ with glee. To see the Midgardian stand up to the “Mighty Thor”…it was almost too good to be true. “Now please, _let him go_. If he’s your brother, you shouldn’t hurt him.” 

Thor continued to glare at him, but muttered,  “As you wish,” and lowered the hammer in surrender.

“You need the cube to bring me home, correct?” Loki continued in his elation. “But I’ve sent it off, I know not where.”

His brother’s face darkened and for a moment he thought that not even the girl’s protests would be able to save him from a beating. “You listen well, brother. I...”

Just like that, however, Thor was gone. He had vanished in a red blur, tumbling onto the ground below by…a man in Iron?

“I’m listening,” Loki chuckled to himself. He then turned his attention to the mortal. "Now as for  _you..."_

 


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki and his captive come together in unexpected ways.

Wait…”Where did your brother go?! Aren’t you going to help him?” she asked him, peering over the cliff. “And I thought _my_ family was fucked…”

“Why did you seek to protect me?” Loki demanded, grabbing her by the face. “I am a _god_ , I do not need the protection of _mortals_.”

“Last time I checked, your brother was about to bash your face in with his hammer. You should be thanking me.” She sneered as his fingers dug into her cheeks.

“You should have remained _silent_. You insolent little wench, can you _never_ keep your mouth shut?!” he released her, spinning on his heel, green cape billowing behind him as he watched the battle raging below them.

She rubbed her sore face; there were _sure_ to be bruises later. “I was only try to help,” she argued. Couldn’t he just say _thank you_ and be done with it?? “I don’t know what kind of shit you and your brother are going through but-“

“Do _not_ ,” growled Loki. “Mention my _brother_. I am already _all too aware_ of your intentions towards him.”   
  
She paused. It had started to rain, somewhere in their scuffle, and she was beginning to grow quite cold. “My…what? What are you talking about?”

It was funny, but the way he was talking he sounded almost…jealous?

“You favor my brother over me, correct?” 

He _was_. He was totally _jealous_! “Well, he didn’t take me hostage…so there’s that….”

Loki made a sound of disgust deep in his throat, still refusing to look at her.

“But…” she said, daring to approach him and lay a hand on his shoulder. “He’s a little too muscular for my tastes. He seems like the kind of guy who would eat a dozen raw eggs for breakfast, and let’s be honest, that’s not attractive to _anybody_.” 

Loki slowly turned his head at that, staring at the hand on his shoulder but making no comment about it. She didn’t know why, but she felt a rush of pride at his unspoken approval. “My brother eats far more disgusting fare. And you…you really find this distasteful?” 

She shrugged, smiling. “Like I said…for a complete psychopath, you’re not so bad. Maybe if we had met under different circumstances…”

* * *

 

He didn’t understand _why_ this mortal was affecting him so.

Loki found himself hanging on her next words, waiting to see what she would say. “Yes? Go on?” he tried to disguise his interest, not wanting to sound so eager as to chase her off.

But it’s not as though he cared what she thought. She _was_ a Midgardian, after all. Just another ant.

…Wasn’t she?

She laughed, her hand still feather-light on his shoulder. “Just admit that you’re jealous.”   
  
“I am _not_ jealous,” he sneered at her. “I have nothing to be jealous of.” 

“Uh huh,” her smile only grew wider. “You know...now that I think about it? Your brother _was_ pretty hot. Something about the way he was flinging that hammer about-“ 

And then Loki did something truly _unforgivable._  

He kissed the mortal.

* * *

 

Her eyes widened in surprise as her captor pressed his lips against hers. He smelled like smoke and pine and something she couldn’t place, and he tasted almost of…cinnamon?

And for a madman, he shouldn’t have been _that_ good of a kisser.

She felt her eyes fluttering closed as his tongue invaded her mouth and he was lifting her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist and it was _all going so fast_.

“Wait…” she breathed as his lips found her neck. “Wait…hold on… _stop_.” 

The lips at her neck stopped their sucking, but they remained so close that she could feel hot breath on her goose-pimpled skin as he spoke. “Your body tells a different story.” 

Well _damn_ wasn’t that the truth. It took everything she had to stifle a moan. “No…seriously. This…this is too weird. I can’t-“ 

Then there was an explosion that rocked the forest and she felt her body begin to fall.

 

 


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki loses his hostage to both his brother and the Man of Iron.

Loki felt the earth move beneath his feet and then watched as the girl slipped from his grasp.

“ _LOKI!”_ she screeched, and by the gods, he _did_ try to catch her. But her fingers slipped through his grasp and then she was lost, tumbling off the edge of the cliff.

He couldn’t fly. Not like Thor. And as much as it sickened him, he probably had to rely on Thor to save her.

“Brother!” he cried. “Brother! Please! Help her!”

He could still feel the pressure of her lips on his own…

…And now it was very likely that she would be lost to him forever.

 

* * *

 

The bottom had dropped out of her stomach as she fell.

It was terrifying, seeing the ground and knowing there was _nothing_ she could do from preventing the imminent _splat_ that would be her fate. 

Until…she wasn’t falling anymore.

She was wrapped in a set of cold, strong, arms. “Who invited you to the party, sweetheart?” A smooth, electronically tinged voice laughed in her ear. 

“Who the fuck are _you_?!” she spluttered.

“Tut, tut. You know, most girls would be happy _not_ to be dead. A little appreciation for your friendly, neighborhood, Iron Man would be nice.” 

They were _flying_. They were actually fucking _flying_! Everything was moving so fast around her in a blur of raindrops and cold and dark. “Down down down put me _goddamn down!!_ ”

“Alright sweetheart,” Iron Man laughed and loosened his grip on her. She felt herself dangling precariously and tried to scramble up the length of his…body? Suit?

“Fuck, _NO!_ Pick me up you fucking dick!” 

“Y’know, for a damsel in distress you’ve got quite a bit of lip.” She could feel them descending and her heart was able to climb back from out of her throat and settle where it belonged- back in her chest. “Oh, and thank _you_ Shakespeare in the Park for allowing this blessed rescue to take place. Next time you go playing with the hammer of death, give us a little warning, eh?” Iron Man rambled on, releasing her safely onto the ground.

She brushed the hair out of her eyes with a sound of indignationand came face to face with Muscle Man.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “Do all you costume freaks get together and hold parties and shit?”

“My lady,” Loki’s brother bowed. “I am glad to see that you are unharmed.”

“Yeah, well…barely.” She grumbled. “So how does this work? I’ve never been…rescued, before.” She shot a nasty look in Iron Man’s direction.

“That’ll be $79.95, baby cakes.” Iron Man said with a thumbs-up.

She snorted. “In your dreams, tin man.”

“My lady…” Muscle Man asked her, also glaring at Iron Man. “I must ask…where is my brother? Is Loki still with us?” 

Oh shit. _Loki_.

She felt herself blushing at the memory of kissing him. “Umm… last time I checked?” 

“On it.” With the sound of a rocket taking flight, Iron Man was off again.

“You shall _not_ harm my brother!” cried Muscle Man, and with his ‘hammer of death’, he was off in flight once more as well. 

“Well…I guess I’ll just…wait here.” She muttered to herself, taking a seat on the dirty, wet, ground, and marveling at the sight of all the trees having been blown back by several radiuses.

* * *

 

Loki watched as she landed safely with that blathering Man of Iron. Knowing she hadn’t…well, disintegrated, he went to leave.

Besides, there would be plenty of time to recollect her later.

As he tried to summon the scepter to him, he was (again) knocked off his feet by an unknown assailant. “Thor, I grow tired of this constant back and forth.”   
  
“Really? That’s too bad, loony tunes.” An unfamiliar voice said, as a needle was jutted unceremoniously into his arm.

And then there was nothing.

 

 

 


	11. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki, Fury, and the Black Widow all meet and Loki's captive makes friends with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner.

He woke up with a splitting headache, in the middle of a blindingly white room. 

“Comfortable?” asked a familiar voice. “No? That’s too bad.”   
  
“Director Fury, is it?” Loki smiled, rubbing his head and squinting against the light. “Always a pleasure.” 

Fury raised an eyebrow at him seemingly surprised he knew his name. Still, he didn’t mention the matter any further. “In case it's unclear, if you try to escape, you so much as scratch that glass...” He pushed a button. The floor underneath his prison opened, revealing the sky and swirling clouds below his feet. “...it's 30,000 feet straight down in a steel trap. You get how that works? Ant... boot.”

Oh how Loki _loved_ to have his own words used against him, especially by those with _such_ inferior intellect. Still, he wasn’t an imbecile; he knew better to argue with someone dangling his demise over his head.  Flattery, however…“It's an impressive cage. Not built, I think, for me.”

Fury nodded. “Built for something a lot stronger than you.” 

Was this supposed to _intimidate_ him? A _god_?! The idea was laughable.  “Oh, I've heard. The mindless beast, makes play he's still a man. How desperate are you, that you call on such lost creatures to defend you?”

Well…he couldn’t be expected to play nice _all_ the time. 

“How desperate am I?” Fury leaned closer to the glass. Loki was struck with the sudden urge to ask him about the eye patch, and if he could have the pleasure of gouging out his other eye (it looked unbalanced). “You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can't hope to control. You talk about peace and you kill 'cause it's fun. You have made me VERY desperate. You might not be glad that you did.”

He snorted. Doubtful. “Ooh,” he smirked. “It burns you to have come so close. To have the Tesseract, to have power, unlimited power. And for what? A warm light for all mankind to share. And then to be reminded what real power is.”

Fury looked him up and down, and for a moment, Loki was reminded of the man’s rage against him; it was refreshing. Why didn’t he let it show more often? Instead, Fury just shook his head and walked away saying, “Well, let me know if "real power" wants a magazine or something.” 

“No,” Loki called after him. “But you _do_ have something of mine I want back.”

* * *

 

The Avengers (they were calling themselves, apparently) gave her something better than the black t-shirt Loki had equipped her with to wear. They also fed her; and for spaceship food, it wasn’t that bad.

“You look like you’ve been through hell,” one of them told her. He had sleepy eyes and messy hair and wrinkled clothes.

“So do you,” she retorted.

He smiled. “Bruce Banner.” His hand waited out in dead air, expectantly, waiting for her to shake. 

She didn’t. “Margaret Thatcher. How do you do?” 

Banner laughed, playing with some machines. He reminded her of Selvig and, with a pang, she realized she missed the old scientist. He wasn’t so bad, it wasn’t like it was _his_ fault he had been possessed. “Man, Loki picked the wrong girl to hold hostage, didn’t he?”

She pursed her lips through a smile, shrugging. “It wasn’t so bad. It was either that or get gang raped by German drug lords so…” 

Banner raised an eyebrow at her. “So you’d rather take being held hostage by an alien terrorist?” 

“He wasn’t so bad.” 

“Huh.” Banner ran his large hands over his face in disbelief. “Yeah, sure.” 

“So where’s your costume?” she asked, spinning around in the chair she was sitting in. “Everybody else seems to have one around here.” 

“Really piss him off, then you’ll see it,” the smug voice of Iron Man stated as he entered the room. “And apparently you’ve got a real talent for that, sweetie, so it shouldn’t be too hard.”   
  
She stared at him without his suit; he was smaller than she expected, but no less arrogant. He also seemed to be extremely wealthy by the way he dressed and carried himself; it made her stomach turn. “What is your _problem_? Are you always this much of a douche or am I just lucky?” 

“My problem,” Iron Man put his hands on the arms of her chair, locking her into place, his face so close to hers that she could smell the aftershave he wore. “Is that we’ve got a mass murderer in a cage stating that _you’re_ working with him.”

She saw red. That _ass_. “You have _got_ to be kidding me! You can’t possibly believe that shit?!”

“Seriously, Tony, lay off.” Banner mumbled. “She’s got a _serious_ case of Stockholm Syndrome. I highly doubt that she’s working with Loki. Besides; he doesn’t seem like the type of guy that plays well with others.”

“Then why isn’t she dead? Or missing parts? Unless it’s parts we can’t see…” Tony’s fingertips traveled the length of her thigh and she saw her foot moving on its own accord to kick him in the crotch. He groaned, doubling over in pain. Banner snickered quietly over in his corner.

“If you touch me again, with or without your suit on, I will kill you,” she whispered sweetly to Iron Man as he tried to catch his breath, placing a kiss to his temple. “Okay?” 

“Yeah, tell me _again_ she’s not working with Loki, Bruce,” wheezed Tony.

* * *

 

He was pacing the length of his cell, when he turned, and, not unsurprisingly, saw Agent Romanoff standing just beyond the glass.

“There’s not many people that can sneak up on me.” He told her with a smile.

“But you figured I’d come?” She asked him. He studied her, for a few moments; she _was_ beautiful. Short red hair, full figure poured into that ridiculous black jumpsuit. But she lacked the…imagination of _his_ mortal. 

He caught himself, reeling, before speaking once more. _His_ mortal? What was he, some lovesick schoolgirl with a crush? Pathetic. “After… After whatever tortures Fury can concoct. You would appear as a friend, as a balm, and I would cooperate.” 

Her face remained impassive. “I want to know what you’ve done to Agent Barton.”

“I’d say I’ve…expanded his mind.” 

“And once you've won, once you're king of the mountain, what happens to his mind?” There was a seriousness, a gravity on her face that made him chuckle.

“Is this love, Agent Romanoff?” As he mocked her, his thoughts turned once more to his hostage. He wondered if she was with Thor.  He wondered if they were holding her in a cell as well, or in splendor like she deserved. He wondered if she had betrayed him yet; it was inevitable, after all. 

It didn’t take the sting away, however.

“Love is for children. I owe him a debt.” Romanoff told him icily.

He sat, trying to display empathy for her miserable plights. “Tell me.” 

“Before I worked for SHIELD,” Romanoff began, sitting as well. “I ah - well, I made a name for myself. I have a very specific skill set. I didn't care whom I used it for, or on. I got on SHIELD's radar in a bad way. Agent Barton was sent to kill me. He made a different call.” 

Of _course_ he did. And Loki? Would he be able to slaughter the mortal, when the time came? It had gotten too out of hand as it was, already. 

He only enlarged his grin, focusing solely on Romanoff, dispelling the troublesome thoughts from his mind. “And what will you do if I vow to spare him?”

Romanoff grinned. “Not let you out.” 

“I know, but I like this. Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man.” Pathetic Midgardian. Like _she_ had a say in her fate as it was.

“Regimes fall every day. I tend not to weep over that,” she told him with a noncommittal shrug. “I'm Russian. Or I was.”

“And what are you now?”

“It's really not that complicated. I've got red in my ledger, and I'd like to wipe it out.”

 _Perfect_. He had her _just_ where he wanted her, time to twist the knife. “Can you? Can you wipe out that much red? Drakoff's daughter, Sao Paulo, the hospital fire. Barton told me everything. Your ledger is dripping, it's gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? This is the basis of sentimentality. This is a child's prayer, pathetic. You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors. But they are part of you and they will never go away. I won't touch Barton. Not until I make him kill you, slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear. And then he’ll wake just long enough to see his good work. And when he screams, I’ll split his skull.”

The look of horror on her face was artwork to him; when she turned away whimpering, he could feel exhilaration flowing through his veins. “ _This_ is my bargain, you mewling quim!” 

“You’re a monster,” Romanoff muttered tearfully into her hands.

“Oh no,” Loki corrected her smugly. “ _You_ brought the monster.” 

She turned back to face him, abruptly, dry eyed and stony faced once more. “So, Banner? That's your play.” 

He feigned confusion. “What?” 

“Loki means to unleash the Hulk. Keep Banner in the lab, I'm on my way, send Thor as well,” she said into a tiny piece within her ear, before turning back to him once more. “Thank you for your cooperation.” Romanoff said, before departing.

He watched her leave before saying to himself, “Oh, but the pleasure is _all_ mine,” as he noticed the grim stare of _his_ mortal, who had watched the whole scene from the shadows.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki is forced to make difficult choices that his captive suffers for.

 

The way Loki spoke to that…well, _gorgeous_ redhead made her sick. The way he looked at her, though…

“Why would you say those things?” she asked him in a whisper, approaching the glass of his cage with caution. For the first time since he had stolen her, she was truly afraid of him. “About Barton? About _me_ working with you?”

His face remained blank. “I was merely manipulating the situation with Romanoff. I told Fury that you were my accomplice to ensure those imbeciles would keep you safe.”   
  
“You lie,” she shook her head, caught between anger and despair. She wasn’t sure what hurt worse; the fact that Loki really _was_ every bit as evil as he claimed to be, or that he was planning on abandoning her. “You always lie.” 

“I’ve never claimed to be truthful,” he told her stoically.

“No,” she conceded. “You haven’t.”

He gazed at her pinched expression. “Yet you remain upset with me. Why? Is this… _jealousy_?”

She flushed bright red. “ _No!_ ”

“You think I desire Agent Romanoff, yes? You imagine my naked body _entwined_ with her own? You imagine my lips pressed against her collarbone, leaving purple and blue bruises? You-“ 

She wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t jealous of a madman. She was just sick of being _used_.  

“Stop it!” She banged on the glass, feeling her throat burn and her eyes fill with tears. She _hadn’t_ been imagining _any_ of those things, but she was now. For some reason, the shadowy visions of Loki intertwined with the ginger just made her ache and feel more insignificant than ever. “Just shut up!” She crumpled, Indian-style, onto the floor and hid her head in her hands as she cried silently.

She was so confused and tired and she wanted to go to a home that she didn’t possess.

She wanted _someone_ to want her.

* * *

 

“Child, get up,” Loki sighed. “Crocodile tears have already been used on me, and I grow tired of the same trick.” 

The girl remained on the floor, head bent, shoulders heaving. Was it possible she actually _was_ …?

Oh. _Oh_. Oh no.

“Child?” he asked, crouching down and peering through the glass cell to try and catch a glimpse at her face. “I meant no harm. I was imitating your actions from previous. Stop this ridiculousness now. I command it.” 

“I didn’t go into fucking _detail_!” she sobbed in a wavering, watery voice. “Just leave me the fuck alone. You don’t want me anymore, anyway. What does it matter to you?”

“Child, I _never_ wanted you,” Loki said with a sigh. “Yet, here you are. Continuing to interrupt my plans and my existence.”   
  
She raised her head to stare at him, and it affected him to see her cry. The same way, he realized, that he felt when Frigga had expressed disappointment in him: remorse. The memory of the feeling was still there, yes, faint but it stung the same. 

Her eyes were tinged red and there was snot running down her nose, but he still yearned to take her into his arms until she’d just _stop_. “If you’re trying to set a mood, here…try harder.” 

He went to respond, to argue with her, as was their custom, when it occurred to him just _where_ they were…. and what he had planned. “You really do need to get up… _now_.”

 She opened her mouth to respond when something exploded, and he watched her body fly through the air.

* * *

 

She hit the opposing wall with a thud and a groan of pain, landing on her side.

The ground beneath her was trembling and every inhale she took was like knives stabbing her insides. “L-loki…” she breathed out. “What-what’s going…on?”

“Just get up. Can you do that for me? Stand up now, like a good little girl. Come now, _stand up_ ,” he urged her, panic evident in his voice. 

She tried, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. “I-I can’t…hurts…” 

“I know, darling, I know,” he breathed, and his voice was soothing her. “Don’t worry, I will protect you, nothing will harm you, don’t worry I-“ 

Another explosion broke out and she screamed in agony as her broken body hit the ground once more.

* * *

 

No. _No_. This was not right. This was _not_ supposed to happen.

If only he could get out of the damn prison he was in, if only he could reach Barton and tell him to stop it with the _damn explosions_. 

He needed a healing stone, he needed to help her… they weren’t finished yet! She didn’t get to leave him before he was finished with her! It didn’t _work_ that way!

He kept cooing to her, kept calling her _darling_ of all things, kept trying to persuade her that everything would end well when he knew perfectly that it would _not_.

He could hear the sounds of battle raging around him but he was only concerned with the faint sound of the mortal’s whimpering gasps of agony.

And there would be plenty of time later to decipher what exactly _that_ meant.

“My lord,” one of his warriors said with a bow, unlocking his cell. He composed himself, gave the soldier a slight nod, and strolled out of the cell. 

Loki resisted his initial urge to rush over to her, as he heard the distinct sounds of his oafish brother coming for him. Effortlessly, he created an illusion of himself, startled and panicked, exiting the cell. As Thor charged through it with a roar, the glass swooshed shut once more.

It was pathetically predictable, really. 

“Are you ever _not_ going to fall for that?” he groused at Thor. 

Thor only growled in response, swinging Mjölnir at the glass of the cage. He braced himself, waiting for the cell to shatter, but when only a mere dent appeared seconds later, found himself chuckling.

“Loki…” _she_ was whispering, trying to crawl over to him. There was a dribble of blood spilling out the side of her mouth, her green eyes beseeching, blue-blonde hair in choppy strands covering the bruises on her face. “ _Please_ …”

With a lump in his throat, he ignored her, and turned to Thor instead. “The humans think us immortal,” he said, trying to keep his voice light, teasing, ever the trickster, ever the villain. “Should we test that?” His fingers hovered above the control panel…

He watched Thor’s eyes flicker to the mortal as she coughed and spluttered, _“NO!_ ” and as he turned, heard the sound of a body falling.

Loki turned, and found himself facing down the barrel of a rather menacing weapon, behind which stood Agent Coulson. 

“Move away please,” Coulson said, motioning to him with the gun. There were the soft sounds of shuffling and Coulson glanced downwards to find the girl attempting to scuttle towards him.

“D-don’t…” she rasped. “Don’t…kill…him.” 

Coulson snorted and Loki felt his anger ignite. Here the girl was, _dying_ , and she had the _audacity_ to try and save his life… _again_. “You like this?” Coulson asked the girl pointing the gun at her eyes. “We started working on the prototype after _your friend_ , here, sent the destroyer.” Coulson’s eyes flittered to Loki’s and he felt himself snarl in response.

“Even I don’t know what it does…” Coulson continued, and Loki’s fingers were dancing closer to the keys on the control panel…. “Uh-uh. Don’t think so, _your majesty_. You drop my agent, I kill your accomplice.”   
  
“Go on,” Loki heard himself saying. “Kill her. She’s no use to me.”

He didn’t want to look at her, see the hurt flash in her eyes…he _could_ , however, hear it in her voice. “Kill me,” she whispered to Coulson. “I’m almost dead, anyway.”

Coulson didn’t take the bait for sympathy, choosing instead to ignite the weapon. “So you wanna find out?” he asked her at precisely the time Loki plunged his spear through Coulson’s chest. 

Thor screamed, his mortal screamed, and Loki smiled.

“Loki…” she continued to call him, Coulson’s blood sprayed over her chapped lips, her grimy fingers reaching out for him. “S-stop…don’t….he’s your _brother_ …you-you…c-can...can’t…”

He stared at Thor’s resigned, accepting face through the glass. There was no more hope, no more promises of brotherhood and home. He knew, as well as Loki, that they were at a chasm too wide to cross. He wanted to say he was sorry, he wanted to feel something other than _emptiness_ as he pressed the console and watched as the cell detached and fell to earth.

The mortal’s shriek still rang in his ears hours later.


	13. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki heals his captive and some startling realizations are brought to light.

 

Even when they were safe on another plane, she refused to speak to him.

It was out of fear, partly. She had watched him stick that spear through another guy’s _chest_ , for fuck’s sake. She had watched him drop his brother out of the fucking sky.

She had heard him say that he didn’t need her, that it was okay to kill her.

She hated him for that most of all, strange as it was.

He had placed her on a cot and covered her with itchy blankets, mindful of her broken ribs. “I’ll be back with something to help you,” he told her stiffly. The back of his palm rested against her forehead for a second, and the feel of his bare skin against hers was enough to send her into a rage once more.

“I hate you,” she said to his back. “I know you want me dead. Why bother?”

He stopped walking. “You said it yourself; I always lie.”

She could still smell Coulson’s blood on her lips and face and the irony tang of the taste of it was enough to make her sick. “You’re such a dick.” 

“Are you through insulting me?” Loki asked, refusing to look at her.

“No,” she continued, wincing as she propped herself up to glare at his shoulders. Even though every breath brought her pain, she couldn’t make herself stop. “How do you kill your own brother? Like, seriously? That’s fucked up, even for _you_.”

“Thor will live. He has survived much worse.”

“And the other guy you stabbed?”

“You seem to forget he was threatening your life,” He pointed out to her, nastily.

She snorted. “Don’t tell me you killed him to save _me_. Even _I_ don’t buy that bullshit.”

He spun around, eyes wild, and she was afraid once more. “He threatened what was _mine_ ,” Loki growled coming closer to her.

“I’m…I’m not _yours_ ,” she breathed at him, trying to seem braver than she felt.  There was a predatory look on his face that took the sting out of her words, however.

“You don’t even have a _name_ ,” Loki hissed, hot breath fanning her face. “You won’t until I _give_ you one. You _crave_ ownership like a lost dog. When it counts, you display your allegiance to me _so blatantly_. You may lie to yourself, child, but you can never lie to me. I know what you want, what you _need_.”

Her mouth was suddenly dry, so dry. “I don’t need _anything_.” She whispered, her forehead falling against his.

His fingertips skimmed over her sides, albeit through the blankets, but it was still enough to have her blanching in pain. “Really? You don’t require _any_ assistance?” 

“Fuck! You fucking _fuck_!”

He laughed, low in his throat, using his free hand to brush some of the hair out of her face. “Shall I leave you like this then?”

She groaned, angry that she needed to admit her _need_ for his help. She turned her head, looking at the opposite wall, stubbornly. “Just fix me. Then drop me off anywhere. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

Loki sprang back from her, suddenly, staring at her strangely. “As you wish,” he told her, voice like lead, and left immediately after.

* * *

 

With a roar of anguish, he hurled the nearest object he could find against the wall.

She was _mad_ at him. He had saved her, _killed_ the man who had threatened her, collected her body so carefully and brought her to asylum and she was _angry_ with him?!

She didn’t want him. 

That was the brunt of it, wasn’t it? _She didn’t want him_. Instantly, he was with Sif again, holding her a flower he had enchanted to never lose its petals. She was with the ...others, and his brother was there too, lurking in the shadows. 

“Oh…Loki…” she had said, face contorted with a mixture of embarrassment and pity. “It’s beautiful…”

“It will never lose its loveliness,” he had blurted out, staring at his boots. “Like you.” 

And then Fandral and Volstagg had just _howled_ with laughter, singing mocking songs about trees and kissing and Loki and Sif. And Sif, had just flushed with shame, looking behind her every so often, seeking out the gaze of _Thor_.

“Loki…I um…well, I have to go.” She told him in a rush, letting the flower fall to the ground before running to catch up with her _friends_ , and leaving him alone feeling like a damned fool.

It wasn’t any different. It always ended the same, for him. It always _would_ end the same for him.

She had said she _hated_ him. He should just let her die.

Begrudgingly, he sighed, ran his hands over his face, and prepared to go seek out a healing stone for her.

* * *

 

The next time she saw Loki she was half asleep.

Her body still ached terribly and she wasn’t sure where exactly they were headed when she felt strange warmth on her skin. “Whasgoingon?” she mumbled out, still groggy.

“I’m healing you,” _His_ smooth, deep voice told her and she was instantly awake. The warmth spread through her torso, and she slowly found that breathing was no longer an excruciating feat. It was, as though, her ribs were being knit back together inside her chest… “Try not to squirm too much, I’d hate to ruin your insides.” 

“It feels…weird,” she admitted, resisting the urge to move as hands traveled lower on her body. “Whoa, whoa!” She thrashed against him, overcome with panic. “Stop!”

“Relax,” he told her, and to her dismay, she did. “I’m doing this for _your_ benefit. Nothing more.”

“Sure you are,” she muttered, gasping as the warmth spread to…other areas on her anatomy. She still felt tense and uneasy but there was a definite…response. “Umm…okay…”

Well she wasn’t likely to tell him to _stop_.

If Loki noticed the change in her, he didn’t say anything about it. He kept moving his damned, magical hands all over her body as her aches and pains gradually slipped away into a bright hum of warmness.

She felt… _good_.

So much so that she let out the tiniest of moans.

Instantly, Loki froze and withdrew his hands as though she had bitten him. “Pardon me?” he asked, and she was surprised to hear a slight crack in his voice.

“What?” she played ignorant. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play games with me,” he growled, grabbing her by the face. “What was that noise?”

She could feel his fingertips digging into her cheeks and she met his eyes with a defiant glare. “There. Was. No. Noise,” she ground out.

And then he crashed his mouth into hers. 

* * *

 

He didn’t know what came over him…he just knew that he _wanted_.

She fought him, at first; she bit him, brought her hand up to his face and slapped him, dug her stubby little nails into his forearms. Just as he was about to stop, however, he felt her lips move against his in tandem. 

She wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him _closer_ to her. “I hate you,” she breathed, pulling her lips away from his own and offering him her pale, slender neck. “So much that I think I don’t hate you at all, sometimes.” 


	14. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki and his captive share a tender moment.

He pulled his face away from hers and she blanched at the loss of contact. “What exactly does that mean?” Loki asked her, slowly, disbelieving.

She felt herself turn even redder and pulled for him once more. “Just forget it. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yes, it _does_ ,” he urged, and she felt his fingertips circumnavigate themselves from her jawline to the pressure point on her neck. “I can feel your pulse _speeding_ up, your heart _beating_ oh so quickly…are you afraid of me? Is this a ploy for mercy?” 

“What?!” she spluttered, indignant. “No! Not at all!” 

“Then what?” Loki smirked, his mouth at her ear now, lips teasing the lobe. “Is this…a confession…of _love_?”

“ _No_!” she squeaked with a harsh shove against his chest. He just _had_ to go and ruin everything. “If anything, it was an admission of toleration. Even _that_ ’ _s_ on thin ice now, you idiot.” 

Still…the image of Coulson blasting him sky high made her want to vomit…but that wasn’t _love_ , was it?

“I think you would have me either way, _girl_.” He breathed against her, one of his hands slipping into her underpants…she squealed and bucked up against him. “Your body betrays your mouth.” 

Well, that _was_ true. But she was certain that any girl in her position with a decently attractive man with _his_ hand down her pants would react the same. “I don’t know much about you, and what I _do_ know doesn’t really make me trust you.”

“What’s there to trust?” Loki chuckled in her ear. “This is sex.” 

God, how many times had she heard _that_ before? This wasn’t her trading her body for drugs. It wasn’t. She brought her knee up to his crotch, feeling like a fool. He groaned and rolled off her, _finally._ “I’m not doing this just for a quick fuck,” she snarled at him, throat burning. “I’m not some common whore you can just…mount whenever you feel like it!”

Her eyes were stinging with tears and she turned her face to the wall. “I…I didn’t mean for it to happen like that,” Loki admitted softly, wheezing as he settled himself on the cot in her place. “I didn’t mean for you to feel cheap, forgive me.”

She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. “Yeah well-wait. Did you just… _apologize_? To _me?_ ”

She stared at him. What was either a smile or grimace (it wasn’t clear) was on his face. “Don’t get used to such pleasantries.”

She smiled, embarrassed and touched at the same time. Sitting next to him on the cot, she brought a hand up to his cheek and turned his face to hers, pressing her lips against his once more.

* * *

 

The girl was _full_ of surprises.

One minute she was wounding him (in quite an intimate place) and the next she was initiating a kiss with him. Loki’s head was spinning at the girl’s madness; it was parallel to only…well, his own.

“You’re mad,” he said against her mouth.

“I’m sorry I kicked you in the balls,” she replied with a smile. 

“You’re so crass,” he sighed, breathing her in. It was the most curious thing…for a mortal, she smelled of the rose bushes on Asgard.

“You’re a murderer,” she ran her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly at the roots. “I’d rather be crass than a killer.”

“I love you.” Loki said.


	15. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki searches his feelings and his captive learns some important information from Dr. Selvig

She stared at him for a moment, blankly, her mouth hanging slightly open before she started to laugh. “You’re so full of shit!” 

He felt the corners of his mouth threaten to fall down, but he managed to keep his composure. For once, he really _hadn’t_ been lying to her; the realization had come to him with the force of…well, his brother wielding Mjölnir. He had kissed her and she had said that she didn’t hate him and well…

He loved her. He _loved_ the mortal.

It was a truly nauseating thought.

She was beautiful (for a mortal) and stupid and brash and crass and she had such a talent for aggravation…but he _loved_ her. The last time he had felt this way…was…well…Sif. 

After he had given her the enchanted flower, she had come to find him. “Loki,” she had called, her voice soft and lovely. “I wanted to thank you, for the flower. I didn’t really thank you properly before.”

He waved her words away; his nose had been stuck in a book to avoid showing her the red on his cheeks. “Yes, of course. Is that all?”

“Loki?” Sif had asked, lowering the book from his face. “You don’t… _desire_ me, do you?”

 “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“ _Loki_.” 

“Would that be so horrible?” he had pleaded with her, searching her face desperately. “Would it be so horrible to have Loki, the wise and cunning instead of Thor, the strong and brutish by your side? I would treat you so well, Lady Sif. I would give you everything you desired. You would want for _nothing_ if you were to be mine.”

To demonstrate, he had used sedir to magic a beautiful, gold, shimmering gown on her warrior’s frame. Sif had gasped in surprise (and what he hoped was delight) running her fingers down the length of her frame. “Loki…it’s beautiful…but-“ 

“But…I am not _Thor_.” He sighed, turning away from Sif. “I know. You want _him_. Not me.” 

“Loki…I truly am sorry,” Sif had reached out to touch him and he had tensed. “I just…it would be untruthful to commit myself to you when I long for your brother. You wouldn’t want to have half of me, would you?” 

“I’d have you any way I could.” 

And then Sif had _kissed_ him, full of pity, for a fleeting moment, the barest brushes of lips. “One day, you’ll look back on this and thank the Norns it wasn’t to be.” She had told him.

He hadn’t believed her then, but he believed Sif now. 

* * *

 

Sometime into the morning, she had fallen asleep, and was awoken not by Loki but… 

“Miss? My Lord says that it’s time for you to wake up. We’ve arrived,” Erik Selvig said from the doorway to her cabin.

“Dr. Selvig!” She cried, delighted. He was the only person she had really felt comfortable around, since this whole…ordeal had started. “It’s so good to see you again!” 

Selvig smiled, blushing a little. “You as well, miss. It has seemed like a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she admitted, rising from the cot and stretching, still feeling pain-free. Whatever Loki had done to her (before the kissing started) had done _wonders_. She couldn’t remember a time when she had felt so…content. “So, where are we?” 

“My lord has told me that we are to part ways in Boston.”

Part ways? “What? Dr. Selvig…what do you mean, part ways?”

Selvig’s smile had quickly disappeared from his face, and his luminous blue eyes searched around nervously. “That is something you’d have to ask my lord, miss. It’s not for me to say, what his plans are.” 

“Dr. Selvig,” she could feel her anxiety growing- after all that had happened, Loki still planned to just…dump her off somewhere?! “Please. It’s important. What is Loki doing? Why is he planning to just leave me?”

“Please get ready, miss.” Selvig urged her before leaving her alone.

Well, _that_ just wouldn’t do. She threw on a fresh black tee (one had been neatly provided for her) and went off searching the ship, screaming for Loki at the top of her lungs.


	16. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki tries to have an important conversation with his captive and she manages to distract him.

She found Loki on the bridge, staring out at the swirling clouds, looking pensive.

“Loki,” she said gaining his attention. “I’d been calling you for ages. What gives?”

“I didn’t hear you,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze. “Are you ready to depart, then?”   
  
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she was worried about him. He didn’t seem like…his usual asshole self. “Why do I have to leave?” 

“I thought this was what you wanted.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Haven’t you been clamoring to leave since the moment you arrived?”

She had…but that was before. Before he had kissed her. And apologized to her. And made her feel like…like in another life, in different circumstances, he could’ve…cared. “Well, yeah but-“

“I am giving you what you want. You would be wise to take it; it’s not often that I feel generous.” He was cold, dismissive.

She wasn’t buying it. Frowning, she said, “Can you just stop?”

He feigned innocence. “Stop what?”

“Lying! For one minute, just talk to me like a normal person would. Tell me the fucking truth- what’s going on? Why do _I_ have to leave?”

Loki sighed, rubbing his temples and closing his eyes. “I have no use for you anymore. You would only get in my way.”  
  
“Haven’t I already?” she joked weakly with him. “C’mon…for a second back there I thought…” 

“Thought what? That we were _friends?”_ Loki sneered at her, but it lacked the usual malice. “Please. I am a _god_. You are a mere mortal. We could never be _friends_.” 

“But it’s fine to fuck a mortal?” she challenged him, drawing closer to him. “I remember you saying you’d never do that either, and _you_ were the one with your hands down my pants.” She watched a shadow of hurt cross his face and continued, softly, “Just be real with me. Please.”

“I have,” he muttered to his fingers. “Am I not really here, speaking to you?” 

“ _Loki.”_

“I am trying to protect you, you foolish girl!” He cried to her at once. “Don’t you _see_ that?! I am trying to keep your stupid, fragile, _mortal_ body _safe_!! Do you not see how it _killed_ me to see you hurt?? I cannot bear it! _I_ _cannot bear these feelings inside me!! THEY ARE TEARING ME APART.”_  
  
There was such anguish, such real torment written across Loki’s face that it scared her. She wanted nothing more than to run from the room, leave him there with his talk of attachment and feelings.

Friendship was something she could grow to understand, something she vaguely remembered. Love was untouchable.

Love didn’t happen to girls like her.

“You hate me,” she murmured. “You wanted Coulson to _kill_ me.”

“If that’s what you so choose to believe,” Loki muttered.

“If you love me then let me stay.” 

He blinked at her ultimatum. “I never said anything about lo-“ 

“You told me before that you did. I didn’t believe you then, but I believe you now.” She placed her hand on his cheek, rubbing his skin with the pad of her thumb. “I’ll stay with you. I don’t want to go anywhere, okay?”

She could see the way his eyes fluttered closed, the rapid rising and falling of his chest. “This is for your own good,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced. “Please.”

“You don’t really want me to go,” she smirked at him through half-lidded eyes. “Right?”

* * *

 

She was trying to kill him. She really was.

The damn little nymph was sliding down his side, settling herself in between his knees. He could feel his body responding as she placed her hands on his thighs, staring up at him expectantly.

She had such…green…eyes…

“I don’t want you to go,” he told her, enchanted by her, caught under her spell. “I _never_ wanted you to go. After I kissed you I knew you belonged to _me_.” 

She giggled, trying to tug his pants down…and failing miserably. “How do you get these damn things off? I was trying to be all sexy and now I’m struggling with, like, a _million_ snaps and shit…”

The last time a woman had touched him like this…by Hel, he had probably _paid_ a toothless wench to do it, outside of a tavern. The amount of times he had imagined Sif in this position, however….

…and it paled by comparison to the sight of _his_ mortal.

Still, he had to stop her. She needed to understand, he had to _make_ her understand. “I cannot allow you to continue, however. I-“ she had succeeded in slipping _one_ of her bare, petite hands into his pants. The friction was enough to have him inhaling sharply, eyes rolling back in his head, continuing in a strained voice, “I…I fear I won’t be able to- _tooo_ , _oh, gods_ \- to tell you…”

“Then don’t.” She smiled devilishly up at him, putting her other hand inside and managing (somehow, he had _seriously_ underestimated her strength, apparently) to rip the pants _exactly_ where she needed them to be.  “I’m not quite sure why I’m doing this in the first place, so just shut up and let me do it before I lose my nerve, ‘kay?”

And then her mouth closed around him and he, Loki of Asgard, forgot how to _speak._


	17. Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki practices the art of reciprocation.

She wasn’t particularly good at giving head.

One guy had clubbed her in the head once, told her she was going to “bite his goddamn dick off” if she wasn’t careful, and she could never figure out how girls could suppress their gag reflex long enough without their eyes filling up or hacking up a lung on the guy.

Still, judging by Loki’s thrashing and moans, he wasn’t complaining.

It wasn’t as though she was _completely_ innocent to the art…sure, there had been men in her past that had forced her to preform, but this was her first outing on her own free will.

She had to admit, it was still disgusting.

“You’re a foolish, _foolish_ , girl.” Loki sighed at her when it was all over. She beamed up at him, brushing hair out of her face and looking for something to clean up with. “There was no need for that.” 

She shrugged, smirking slightly. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”  
  
He sighed again, but she could see the smile threatening to break through. He really was handsome when he smiled… “I suppose not,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her to his chest. “I do, however, believe in reciprocation…”

* * *

 

The girl’s eyelids fluttered closed and Loki could hear the hitch in her breathing. “Uh…n-no thanks…that’s okay…”

“It would be very… _selfish_ of me to leave a young lady wanting,” he murmured in her ear, grinning predatorily at the way her body folded around him, heat radiating off her. “Besides you did such an _exemplary_ job, I’d love to see if your talents lie…elsewhere.”

She whimpered and he could feel her legs wriggling against him. “Well…when you put it like _that_ …” she agreed shakily, smiling at him slightly. 

Her eyes locked on him (so very green) and she took off the pants she was wearing, letting them pool around her feet and, more importantly, leaving herself _bare_ before him.

“Beautiful,” he crooned to himself, and when he caught her looking at him with a raised eyebrow, added, “For a mortal, that is.”

“Of course,” she giggled. “Can’t let you get carried away, now.”

Loki smiled up darkly at her before placing his face in between her thighs, and then there was no more laughter.

When he had finished (and after she had come undone around him just so _perfectly_ ) he waited for her breathing to return to normal. He didn’t know much about Midgardian mating, but he figured that it would be a bad sign if she were to stop breathing all together mid-act.

“That…” she gasped, eyes fixed on the ceiling above. “That was _incredible_!”

“In Asgard, I am known as Silvertongued.” Loki told her smugly. “There is a dual purpose to this moniker, as you’ve just witnessed.”

“Oh?” she asked, feigning jealousy. “And who were the lucky women to receive such treatment?” 

Whores. “No one befitting to mention.”

“Funny how I’ll fall into that category,” she mused sadly. He brought a hand up to her face, feeling her soft skin, her yellow hair. He wanted to breathe in her essence, her spirit, carry her around in his bones until he could possess her _at all times_.

He needed her close to him. He needed her. _He needed her safe_.

“Never,” he whispered, and with a heavy sigh, and raised the scepter to her temple.

Her eyes flashed brilliant blue and then she laid still. 


	18. Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki moves forward with his plan...alone.

 

“Umm, excuse me?? Are you alright, or something?”

She opened her blurry eyes, staring at a blonde teenager with a bad attitude. She was wearing a hot pink shirt that blared, _bite me!_ and was carrying her cell phone like it was an umbilical cord; text, text, texting away as she spoke to her. “I…I think so. Where am I?”

“You’re in the middle of like, the Common. Duh.” 

She looked around. There were a lot of people with shopping bags staring at her oddly, mothers keeping their children away from her as though she were rabid. IT was then she realized she was sprawled out on the cobblestones. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” 

The girl huffed, throwing her highlighted hair over her shoulder. “Are you like, on drugs, or something?” 

Was she? She couldn’t remember…anything, really, that had happened for a significant amount of time. The last thing she remembered was being in a crappy, smoky apartment, getting high off some Mexican’s stash. 

Oh. Apparently she _was_ a druggie. “Maybe. I guess.” 

“You guess?” the girl scoffed. “Gross. Anyway, I’d get off the street if I were you. And take a shower. You’re kind of nasty.”

 _That_ was helpful. “And where do you suggest I do that? A port-o-potty?” She _did_ kind of reek.

The girl rolled her eyes. “As _if._ My place, stupid. C’mon, I’ll let you borrow some clothes.”

And _that_ was unexpected. She struggled to her feet, legs wobbling. “Whoa. Head rush.”

Blondie frowned at her. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“I can’t remember.”  There was something heavy hanging around her neck; she touched it, it was cold like stone. “What’s this?”

“You’re lucky no one stole that off of you,” the girl said, holding up her phone. The reverse camera was on, giving her a good view of her disheveled appearance. There was a beautiful stone necklace around her throat; different green and grey rocks of all shapes and sizes met to form three, jagged, blue spikes. They were cold to the touch, like ice, but had the strangest swirling colors in them. “Looks expensive. Where’d ya get it?" 

She shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Ugh, do hugs not drugs kiddies,” the girl groused at her, pulling her by the arm. “C’mon, it’s getting dark. You can meet my roommates.”

* * *

 

He wished she knew where she was.

He wished he could call upon Heimdall to tell him, but that wasn’t a good idea. Hel, Loki wished he could go back for her, but that wasn’t the point of doing it. 

She _had_ to forget him. If she remembered him, she’d come looking for him, and then she’d be dead.

When he had gotten the healing stone for her, the Chitauri had cornered him. “Would-be king of Asgard,” he had hissed. “How are things progressing on Earth?”

“Provide me with a healing stone and I’ll tell you.”  
  
“We grow tired of your games, Asgardian!” The Other roared at him. “I demand to know how this ‘glorious battle’ is to be fought!”

Loki resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Is there no trust to be had in me? I have secured the Tesseract for you, I have an army ready, I have defeated the Avengers _countlessly_. When the time is right, you and your people will have their way. The humans will be slaughtered, the remainder will be left under my rule, and the Tesseract will be yours. But first, I seek a healing stone.”

“We have no use for Asgardian healing,” snorted the Other. “If you are injured, you may use the power of the Tesseract.”

“Give me what I desire or the doors shall remained close to you, _vermin_.” Loki spat. He didn’t react particularly kindly to being scorned, especially by a lesser species. This was _his_ plan, _his_ battle to control. “This is my final bargain.”

The Other hissed at him again. “Remember, you know-“

“Yes I know, nothing as _sweet_ as pain, Thanos will make yearn for death, yes. I am familiar with your threats.”

“What is this?” The Chitauri mulled around their leader, coming closer to Loki with interest. “I sense a change in you, Asgardian. You seek to protect…another?”

 _Damn_. “No. I seek a healing stone, not protection. Was I not clear in my demands before?”

“Yes, you seek a healing stone…why? For…a _mortal_?” The Chitauri scum snickered around him, the Other smiling at him maliciously. “Perhaps Thanos would pay your mortal a visit, Asgardian.”

“Thanos could try,” Loki snarled. “Though he’d sooner see the Tesseract destroyed than to have it within his grasp if he _dared_ to do so.” 

The Other only continued to smile at him. “We shall see…in the meantime, you may have your healing stone, Asgardian. Protect your mortal while she is still within your power to do so.”

It was then that Loki knew he had to get rid of her, for her own sake. For as long as _Thanos_ was after her, there’d be no place within the entire Nine Realms that she’d be safe.

It killed him to do it, yes, but forgetting him was the only way.

“My lord,” Selvig bowed, approaching him and snapping him out of his reverie. “We’ve arrived at Stark Tower.” 

“Excellent,” Loki smirked. Enough of this depressing musing; there was work to be done.


End file.
